The Angels Guide You Home
by whereagoodmangoestowar
Summary: Fitz struggles to adjust to life without Simmons. (Takes place just before season 3 begins)


It was late. How late, Fitz couldn't exactly tell. He had been awake too long, that much he knew. Time had been hard to grasp ever since Simmons disappeared. She was the one who would always tell him to stop working, to go to bed at let a project wait until tomorrow. But she wasn't here now. So he continued working. He felt he was close to breakthrough. The security tapes from the storage vault had shown him and rough sketch of what had happened. He had left the container holding the monolith open, it had turned to liquid, and she had been sucked into it. Once he had gotten over the rage and guilt, he began to do what he did best; solve problems. Last week he had scanned the monolith and learned a chilling fact: Simmons was not inside it. Now he was frantically searching for historical data, and running simulation after simulation. He had to find her. What would he be without Simmons? No one interesting, no one of importance. Without her, he would probably still be sitting in that dusty old lab in the academy. He sighed, and buried his face in his hands. He was suddenly aware of the radio playing. He couldn't remember having turned it on. He paused to listen

 _"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas…"_

Was it already Christmas? He couldn't tell. The base was heated and he hardly ever went outside. Who was to say if it was snowing or not? Time moved around him like a river, which he could neither grasp at nor control. And that bothered him. He wanted to turn back time, all the way to the beginning. Back when he and Simmons first started on The Bus. When everyone was happy. He sighed again. Now he was thinking about time travel. He needed a break, or else his brain would stop working all together. He sat down on his bed, reluctant to lay down. The song on the radio changed to a new one. This one was quieter, and he did not know it. So he listened.

 _"When the Curtains of night are pinned back by the stars and the beautiful moon leaps the sky, when the dew drop of heaven are kissing the rose, it then that a memory flies."_

He laughed to himself. The song sounded quite sappy. But nevertheless, it had a calming effect. He lay down on his bed, and stared at the ceiling.

 _"As if on the wings of some beautiful dove, in haste with one message alone, to bring you a kiss of affection and say 'The Angels Will Guide You Home.'"_

What would he say too Simmons if she was there now? I miss you? I need you? Come back to me? Nothing seeme to express how he felt. How could he tell her that her absence made his heart hurt? Or that without her, he was a mess of a person? He knew what he needed to say to her, he just wasn't sure if he could. He tried to conjure an image of her from his mind. But he couldn't. And that alone was more terrifying than all the monsters he had ever faced.

 _"Go where you will, o'er land air and seas, whatever your sorrows or cares. The angels will guide you wherever you roam, the angels will guide you home."_

Oh God, he wished it were that easy. He wished that Simmons could simply be brought back to him. But that was impossible. He didn't know where she was, if she was on earth, or even if she was in another dimension. He knew he had to bring her back, but what would happen then? Would the awkward silence that had separated them for so long come back? Or would they become something more. He shook his head. He had to stop daydreaming about the problems of the future, or he would never solve the problems of the present.

 _"Go where you will, o'er land air and sea, for gone are you troubles and cares."_

He wished his cares were gone. Life would be so much easier if he didn't care about Simmons. If he hadn't cared so much about Simmons, he wouldn't have spent most of last year with crippling brain damage. But then, if he didn't care about Jemma, who would he be? Not this. Not a heartbroken person working themselves to death. But on the other hand, he wouldn't be kind without Jemma, he wouldn't be happy without Jemma, and he sure as hell wouldn't be sane without her.

 _"The angels will guide you so softly to rest"_

But he didn't want to rest. For him, resting was just as bad as acceptance. And if he accepted that Simmons was gone for good, well, who knew what would happen. Once again he tried to picture her. The image flickered in and out of his mind like a flame. He tried to talk to this ghostly image of her, but how could he possibly make all the messy words in his head into sentences? So he just picked three words. After going over them in his head, he tried them aloud.

"I love you, Jemma," he said to no one.

 _"The angels will guide you home."_

He could never be home while she was gone. For most, home was a place. For him, it was a person. Home was the way she smiled. Home was the way she laughed. Home the soft light of the lab reflecting in her eyes. Home the way she said his name. Home was the feel of her hand in his. For Fitz, home was Jemma Simmons. He couldn't know that she felt the same way, so he hoped. He hoped with all his heart. And he fell into a deep sleep, where he dreamed of sandwiches, laughter, and kept promises.

And the next day, he left for Iraq.


End file.
